


Very Private Security

by theheartbelieves



Category: St Trinian's (2007 2009), The Brothers Grimsby (2016)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Firthstrong, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rarepair, Seoffrey, Stirth, although seb's a snack, dont watch the brothers grimsby, professionalism who dat?, seriously dont watch it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartbelieves/pseuds/theheartbelieves
Summary: Sebastian's boss, Geoff, gets migraines. When Seb tries to help, all professional boundaries go out the window.





	Very Private Security

**Author's Note:**

> A silly H/C drabble that got entirely out of hand.
> 
> Unbeta-ed, as usual.

Sebastian Graves doesn’t regret walking away from MI6 to start his own security firm, but sometimes he misses not being in charge. His first - and main - client, politician (and secret PM hopeful), Geoffrey Thwaites, is a walking disaster. Seb is often less security and more a personal assistant and valet wrapped into one lethal package.

Truthfully, Geoff probably doesn’t need such comprehensive security - Seb had been given a long, rambling story about an all-girls’ boarding school and some vindictive former students when Geoff first contracted him - but Seb doesn’t complain about the generous fee he collects from the man each month. He happily holds doors, carries shopping, fetches things in the house when Geoff can’t be bothered, and even helps run the household. 

At least he gets to wear bespoke suits to work everyday and he never, ever finds himself having to work with his buffoon of a brother. Additionally, he’s discovered how relaxing it is having a regular job.

After six months, he’s built up his business up enough that he could easily assign one of his employees to Mr. Thwaites and relegate himself to managing.

If only he hadn’t become uncharacteristically fond of the silly man.

Seb isn’t sure what makes his bumbling, accident-prone client so endearing, but when Geoff manages to get them into a ridiculous situation - like leading Seb smack dab into a bat mitzvah instead of the conference Mr. Thwaites was supposed to speak at -, all he has to do is smile crookedly at Seb and look abashed and he forgives him. Despite being such a catastrophe, Geoff somehow makes it work. He’s well-liked by his constituents and his employees. Everyone that meets the man loves him.

Even Seb. He notices it for what it is. He knows it’s a problem, but he’s a professional. He can handle it.

That is, he handles it until the first time Geoff gets a migraine, and the lines between employer and employee start to blur.

They’re eating lunch together in Geoff’s kitchen. Such quick lunches have become habitual with them. They discuss schedules or the next day’s plans or more often than not, chat casually. 

Today, Seb has made them sandwiches. They’re sitting at the island bar, laughing about a recent encounter they’d had while running errands. A woman had come out of nowhere, thrown an arm around Geoff’s neck, kissed his cheek and taken a quick, blurry selfie before being forcefully dragged away by an angry Sebastian.

“I never knew you politicians had honest-to-god groupies,” Seb chuckles.

Geoff plays with his food bashfully. “Yes, well… the internet, you know. Every niche interest is represented.”

“Speaking of the internet,” Seb says, trying to sound casual as he unlocks his phone. He pulls up the woman’s Twitter page and the selfie. He turns the screen for Geoff to see.

“Oh, Christ…” the man moans, covering his face with both hands. “How did you find that?”

Seb looks at the picture again. In it, Geoff looks wide-eyed and mortified. But god help him, Seb thinks he looks cute.

“She tagged you! Made it impossibly easy to find.” Geoff moans, face flushing. “It’s even her profile picture.”

“Please, Graves. Stop. Mercy. I don’t need to know. How embarrassing.”

Seb gives him a pointed look. “To be fair, sir. It’s not your most embarrassing incident.”

He watches Geoff picking at the lettuce on his sandwich. “Meal not to your liking?”

“Oh gosh, no. Just not very hungry.” 

Despite this, Geoff stops playing with his food and takes a bite, eyes rolling with pleasure. Seb’s heart lurches with pride.

“Quite right,” he continues, mouth full of sandwich. “There’s been a remarkable decrease in such… scenes since you came into my employ. I can’t help but think it’s your influence.”

Seb stifles a grin. “Happy to serve, sir.”

Geoff sets down his sandwich and presses a hand to his head.

“You ok? Can I get you some paracetamol?” Seb offers, finishing off his sandwich and half-rising from his stool.

Geoff flaps his hand. “No. No. If this is what I think it is, that’ll do next to nothing.”

Seb sits back down. “What do you think it is?”

“A migraine. I hope it won’t turn into one but-” He squints at Seb from under his hand. “Nope. It’s a migraine.”

He stands, stool clattering. Seb rising, unsure what to do.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to… Please cancel the rest of my day.” Geoff’s voice is strained as he practically stumbles from the room. Seb watches him leave, helpless.

The migraine seems so sudden, but now that he thinks about it, he’d just missed the signs: the tightness around Geoff’s eyes, the way he’d been rubbing his temples all day, his lack of appetite.

Seb cleans up in the kitchen, makes a few calls, shoots off an email, and then the rest of his day is clear. He wanders up to Geoff’s room. The door is shut. The light is off. Seb makes sure to turn off the hall light before he cracks open the door.

“Sir?” There’s no answer, so he closes the door as gently as he can and goes off to entertain himself until his employee shows up for night shift.

\---

It’s long after dark when Geoff appears at the bottom of the stairs, hair messy and in wrinkled pajamas. He looks so innocent, but at the same time, irresistibly rumpled that Seb can’t help but stare at him as he shuffles into the living room where Seb is watching a documentary at a low volume. Geoff collapses and curls up on the opposite end of the sofa, bare feet near Seb’s leg.

“You’re still here,” Geoff mutters, voice rough from disuse.

Seb forces himself to look back at the television and ignores the impulse to move his leg so that they’re touching. “I was worried about you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Disoriented. But better. Thank you.” Geoff slides his foot over and nudges Seb’s knee until he pays attention. “Really. Thank you. Most employees wouldn’t have bothered.”

Seb moves his hand and rests it on Geoff’s ankle. “Anything else I can do for you before I head home for the evening?”

Geoff stretches, the bottom of his foot pressing against Seb’s thigh.

“I should be fine,” he says with a yawn. “You know, you’re always welcome to my guest room if you ever get stuck here like tonight.”

“I wasn’t stuck, but thank you. I may take you up on that should you have another…” He makes a vague gesture towards his head. “Episode.”

Geoff draws his foot back, curling up again. Seb’s fingers itch to follow. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I only get these two or three times a year. This one snuck up on me because they’re usually triggered by stress.”

“Maybe it was the selfie attack,” Seb jokes. Geoff’s gaze has drifted back towards the screen. 

“Yeah, perhaps,” he muses, voice distant. Seb has seen him like this before, when he withdraws into his thoughts. It was best not to bother him. 

Seb stands and heads to gather his jacket. If he leaves now, he can still get - he glances at his watch - five hours of sleep before he needed to be back.

“Graves,” Geoff calls after him. Seb pauses in the entryway, looking back. Geoff’s face is lit by the cold light of telly. He looks so tired. “Pack a bag. Keep it here. Just in case.”

Seb nods, heart in his throat, then realises that Geoff probably can’t see him. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. See you in the morning.” And just like that, he’s dismissed.

Seb grabs his jacket from the kitchen, letting Waverly know that he’s leaving for the night. The kid’s young but serious-minded. He wouldn’t trust Geoff with anyone less competent than his best man.

On his way back down the hallway towards the front door, he hesitates again, looking in at Geoff. He’s staring blankly into space, completely ignoring the programme. Seb wants to ask what’s bothering him. He wants... He wants...

He forces himself to the front door, checking the security cameras before resetting the alarm. He locks up behind him and starts his walk home, deciding he needs to clear his head, but the entire journey, he’s plagued with the vacant look on Geoff’s face. Something had to be the cause. Seb would do whatever he can to reduce the stress in Geoff’s life.

\---

Life returns to normal and Seb manages to reassert a bit of professional distance between him and Geoff. He even takes to assigning some day shifts to Waverly. He doesn’t even think about it most days, but then he remembers that his clothing hangs in the guest bedroom of Geoff’s house and his heart stutters. He knows it doesn’t mean anything. He repeats that to himself as a reminder.

Geoffrey Thwaites is a client. Nothing more. Never anything more.

Less than a month passes before the next migraine. They’re in the waiting room of an MP, long overdue for their scheduled meeting when Seb starts to notice signs of trouble. Geoff is quiet - not like his usual contemplative lapses, but that same tight, tense silence that Seb had failed to note the last time. He rests his head in his hand, shoulders tight.

Seb leans over and speaks low. “You ok, sir?”

Geoff looks at Seb, lips pressed thin, jaw clenched. He shakes his head.

“Bathroom,” is all he says before rushing out of the room. Seb follows him as quickly as possible, throwing an apologetic look at the receptionist, who doesn’t even notice.

He finds Geoff kneeling in front of a toilet in the women’s room when he finds the men’s room empty. He’s already been sick and is panting through dry heaves. Seb folds and wets a few paper towels with cold water and stands back, waiting for Geoff to finish.

Finally, he slumps, sitting with his back against the wall. His head hangs, eyes closed. 

“This is humiliating,” he mutters. Seb doesn’t answer him, crouching down and placing the paper towels in Geoff’s hand. He wipes his forehead, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. He rests the towels over his eyes and sighs.

“Let’s get you home, sir.” Seb is sure to speak softly. “Do you think you can walk to the car? I can help you if you need to keep your eyes closed.”

Blindly, Geoff holds his hand up. Seb helps him up slowly and slides an arm around him. Geoff placidly follows him, one hand holding the paper towels to his eyes as an ersatz blindfold. Luckily, the halls aren’t busy and Seb is able to get Geoff down the flight of stairs to the parking garage where they’d left the car.

He settles Geoff in the backseat, encouraging him to lay down. He still insists on fastening Geoff’s lap belt before getting into the driver’s seat. They drive home in silence, Seb thinking of the phone calls he’d need to make as soon as he got Geoff settled in bed.

He parks directly in front of Geoff’s place. He’d worry about properly parking it later, tickets be damned. He slowly guides Geoff inside, leaving all the lights off as they make their way upstairs. He’s tempted to just pick the man up, but he reminds himself to be patient.

“Wait here a second,” Seb says, leaving Geoff outside the bedroom door. He hurries in and pulls shut the blackout curtains. So obvious, he thinks now. He can’t believe he didn’t note their presence and suss out their function earlier. He really is going soft, like a proper civilian.

He returns and guides Geoff to his bed. Without words, he pulls the suit jacket from his shoulders and tosses it on the bed, then turns him. With careful fingers, he loosens Geoff’s tie and pulls it gently over his head. The man stands still, head bowed, breathing uneven. Pain is etched in every tense line.

He kneels and taps Geoff’s calf, indicating his intention to remove his shoes. The man’s silent compliance is unnerving. He usually hates being fussed over. Seb sets the dress shoes aside and then hesitates. He isn’t sure what Geoff expects of him in this situation. He hopes Geoff doesn’t want him to help him into his pajamas. Seb knew he couldn’t handle that.

“Belt?” he asks. Geoff makes the slightest movement of his head. Even that makes him wince.

With unsteady hands, Seb unbuckles Geoff’s belt and pulls it gently free from the belt loops. He tries not to think about getting to do this in completely different context and fails miserably. He swallows hard, thinking of nothing else: how he’d unfasten Geoff’s trousers and nuzzle against his growing erection, how he’d mouth him through the fabric of his pants-

Get a grip, Graves, he chastises himself. He’s glad Geoff can’t see him because he’s certain he’s flushed.

He stands hurriedly and turns Geoff towards the bed. He should be comfortable enough to sleep, at the very least. Seb pulls back the covers and Geoff nearly falls into bed, coming to rest at a haphazard angle across the mattress before he gives up and lays still. Seb covers him up, smoothing a lingering hand over the duvet - definitely not touching Geoff.

“Bless you, Graves. What would I do without you?” Geoff sighs. Seb nearly runs from the room.

Seb distracts himself by parking the car properly, cancelling the rest of Geoff’s day, apologising profusely to the MP’s receptionist - the same one that hadn’t noticed their flight from the anteroom. After that, he can’t seem to settle on anything. There’s nothing on the telly, nothing interesting in the news either. He makes himself a bare bones dinner, eating it standing at the counter and looking out at the tiny garden as the sun sets.

His mind is still upstairs in Geoff’s dark room. He can’t stop thinking about the quiet trust the man has in him. He doesn’t deserve it. Not with the thoughts that had flashed through his head as he’d partially undressed him earlier. If Geoff only knew… but that downcast, open expression keeps flashing across his mind’s eyes. He wonders what Geoff would have done had Seb kissed him.

Disgusted, he goes to bed as soon as Waverly settles in. He uses the guest bedroom that night for the first time, feeling guilty even though Geoff had told him to use it. He tosses and turns, thinking of Geoff in the next room, alone and in pain; thinking of Geoff in bed and sleep tousled. Seb groans and pulls a pillow over his head.

He finally drops off sometime near midnight and dreams of unbuckling Geoff’s belt with deliberate fingers, pulling down trousers and pants. He dreams of his mouth on Geoff and the soft, needy noises he’d make.

He wakes, pillow still over his face, and harder than he’s been in a long time. He checks his phone. It’s barely five in the morning, but he knows he’ll never fall back asleep without taking care of his current dilemma, so he groans and heaves himself out of bed.

He takes a long, hot shower - taking care of the aforementioned problem - and dresses in hi s spare suit hanging in the closet. He examines himself in the mirror. He’s got a day’s worth of stubble but other than that, he looks good, if a little tired.

He walks down the hall, surprised to find Geoff’s bedroom open and unoccupied. He hurries downstairs, spies Waverly in the den one eye on the security cameras, the other watching some panel show.

Geoff is curled up on the couch again, in yesterday’s clothes. He’s watching the documentary Seb had never finished and nursing a cup of tea he’s got his hands wrapped around.

“Morning, sir,” he says, feeling awkward for the first time around Geoff.

Geoff points to a steaming mug on the coffee table. For him, Seb assumes. He still looks like he’s hurting, but he’s up. Seb takes that as a good sign.

He settles next to Geoff, taking up the tea. “Thank you.”

“Did you sleep well?” Geoff asks, eyes never leaving the screen. “You looked well out when I peaked in around three.”

“You’ve been up that long?”

Geoff nods gingerly. It’s clear he’s still under the weather.

“Shall I rearrange your day?” Seb asks before mentally kicking himself. It’s a Saturday. The only things on Geoff’s schedule are personal errands and work around the house. But to his surprise, Geoff nods again.

“I think I’ll go back to bed here soon.” He sets his tea on the end table and slides so that he’s lying on his side. The man falls asleep in just a few minutes, breath evening out, and Seb finds himself watching Geoff more than the documentary.

He relaxes in his sleep, unfolding. His feet tuck up against Seb’s thigh and Seb can barely breathe from just that slight contact. Slowly, he pulls the blanket draped over the back of the couch to cover Geoff, but he doesn’t move. Ostensibly, it’s so he won’t wake the man, but Seb knows the real reason.

He nurses his tea and finishes the documentary, then flips over to a random channel for background noise. He’s pretty much given up all pretense of watching the telly.

Seb is startled when Waverly peeks his head in at seven to bid him a good day before he leaves. Seb holds a finger up to his lips and then gives a curt wave. After the kid’s gone, Seb hopes to god he hadn’t caught him staring at Geoff like some lovesick teen.

He forces himself to rise, leaving the television on to cover his work. He makes a few phone calls, checking in on the few other clients that he trusts to other employees. They each give their reports and then Seb sits himself down in the den to go through emails. That occupies him until noon.

He’s just wrapping up when his stomach growls. He realises that if he’s hungry, Geoff is bound to be starving. He crouches next to the couch where the man is still asleep. He’s on his side, facing out. One hand is cushioned under his head, the other fisted in the blanket Seb had covered him with. Seb’s heart clenches hard with the intensity of emotion he feels for this idiotic man.

Now, how to wake him?

He wants to brush the hair off his forehead or graze his knuckles against his cheek. Even better would be to lean in and kiss him softly, repeatedly, until he opened his beautiful, dark eyes.

He sighs at his sentimentality. When had he gone so soft? Civilian life was doing him in. Eventually, he decides to place his hand on Geoff’s shoulder.

“Sir?” As soon as he touches Geoff, the man startles awake, flailing out and knocking Seb flat on his ass.

“Oh! Sebastian!” Geoff sits bolt upright on the couch, blanket clutched to his chest. “Where- Did I hit you?”

Seb rubs the place on his chest where Geoff’s hand had struck him. “Yeah, but I’m fine. I should have woken you more gently.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. Quite the reactions you got there, boss.”

The stunned, wide-eyed expression melts from Geoff’s face, turning into amused embarrassment, and if Seb hadn’t already wanted to kiss him- He cuts that line of thought off quickly.

“I was just wondering if you wanted something to eat. You haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday and well, that didn’t stick. Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, Geoff’s stomach rumbles loudly. “Apparently, I am.”

Seb grins at him. “What do you want? If I can’t make it, I’ll order it in.”

Geoff takes a few seconds to consult with his appetite before answering. “Would you judge me harshly if I asked for pancakes?”

Seb covers his mouth, certain that Geoff would mistake him laughing as judgement. “Not harshly, no. Pancakes sound great.”

Seb is glad Geoff chose something easy. His culinary expertise is limited to bachelor fare. He’s able to whip up some pancakes without incident. He scrambles up a few eggs for himself too. He’s actually proud of himself when he returns to the living room with two plates, only to find Geoff gone. Seb sets the food down and hurries to the stairs.

“Geoff?” he calls upstairs. Immediately, Geoff pops his head out from his room. His hair is wet.

“Sorry to disappear on you, but I felt disgusting.” 

Geoff walks out in nothing but a robe, towelling his hair. The belt of the robe isn’t doing much of a job, and Seb stares at the V of chest and stomach that’s revealed to him as Geoff descends the stairs. Seb’s brain stutters to a halt - all his training, all his insistence on professionalism: out the window. When Geoff reaches the last step, Seb still hasn’t managed to look away, let alone move. Geoff raises an eyebrow.

“You alright, Graves?”

Seb nearly jumps to the side. “Yes, sir. Dinner- there…”

He gestures towards the living room and winces. Good god, man. It’s just a robe, he thinks. But it wasn’t. It was Geoffrey Thwaites in a robe. That made all the difference. He catches himself watching as Geoff walks away from him, then nearly stumbles over himself to follow.

Geoff nearly inhales his pancakes and then eyes Seb’s eggs. Seb rolls his eyes at the man, shovels half the eggs onto Geoff’s waiting plate.

“Greedy,” he mumbles around a mouthful of pancake, but smiles at Geoff. He’s happy his appetite is back, happy to be taking care of him.

When they’re done eating, Seb leans back, arms along the back of the couch. The same inane reality show channel is on the telly, but he’s too full to care. Then Geoff reclines too, head resting on Seb’s forearm.

“Oh my god, that was just what I needed.”

They settle in to digest. Seb looks over at Geoff. The man’s hair is soft against his arm. He looks happy and relaxed. Geoff rolls his head to look back. Inside, Seb squirms and tries to say something to cover his blatant staring.

"Have you seen a doctor about these migraines?"

"Of course. Nothing has worked. Last time I went, they suggested they were psychosomatic. Needless to say..." Geoff's voice is barely a whisper. “Who knows… maybe they’re right.”

Seb shifts his arm from under Geoff’s head and rests his hand on the man’s crown. “You mentioned that they’re triggered by stress, right?”

“There’s definitely a correlation.” Geoff closes his eyes and sighs. Seb strokes his hair. “Whenever work gets overwhelming or life gets a bit much…”

“What’s been triggering them recently? What can I do to help?”

Geoff opens his eyes and studies Seb’s face. He looks sad and Seb’s heart aches. He wants that look of happiness back. “You already help so much, Sebastian. You don’t need to do anything more.”

Geoff suddenly stands up from the couch and stretches. “Now! Time to catch up one what I’ve missed. I’ll get dressed and you’ll debrief me?”

“Of course, sir.” Geoff disappears upstairs and not for the first time, vows to hand off Thwaites to someone else. This is untenable. Seb turns off the telly and goes to get his notes in order.

When Geoff isn’t back in thirty minutes, Seb goes looking for him. He finds him sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark, head in his hands. He’s dressed in slacks and an Oxford but hasn’t gotten further than that. Seb softly knocks, thinking it surely be another migraine.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Geoff says through gritted teeth, voice full of frustration. “Don’t worry. It’s not a migraine this time. Just your run-of-the-mill headache…”

Seb shifts by the door, wanting to help, but he pauses. He doesn’t think his suggestion will be welcome or a good idea, but seeing Geoff in this kind of pain makes the decision for him.

"You know... An... Ex of mine used to get horrible ones and... Do you mind if I try something?"

"I'll try anything..." Geoff gestures for Seb to come closer.

Seb steps close to the bed and clears his throat. "It's just a massage but it really seemed to work."

“Please.” Geoff lets his head hang, rubbing his neck with both hands.

Seb crawls up on the bed and settles on his knees behind Geoff. He places his hands lightly on his shoulders.

"Is this ok?" 

Geoff makes a humming noise and lets his hands fall limp between his knees. Seb draws his hands closer together, thumbs making gentle circles on either side of his spine. Geoff sighs, shoulders relaxing. Seb runs his fingers up into Geoff's hair, lightly massaging the nape of Geoff's neck.

"Oh... Seb," Geoff breathes, sagging and leaning back against Seb's knees.

Seb freezes. Geoff's back is warm against his legs. He's suddenly very aware that they're in Geoff's bed. He rakes his fingers up through Geoff's hair to the man's temples. More tiny circles.

"How does that feel?" Seb winces at how strained his voice sounds.

"Very good. Please..." Geoff doesn't even finish his thought. He lets his head fall back against Seb's chest.

Seb notices that Geoff is breathing in time with him, or he's breathing in time with Geoff. He tries not to notices how close Geoff's neck is, how easy it would be to place a kiss there - or the side of his face or turn Geoff’s head and…

No, he mentally chastises himself.

He continues to massage Geoff's temples, occasionally running his fingers over his scalp.

He's not sure when Geoff falls asleep, but once he realises it, Seb slows his movements. He lets his hands come to rest on Geoff's shoulders, thumbs stroking the sides of his neck. Seb knows he should wake Geoff up or lay him down. At the very least, he should bid a hasty retreat because Geoff's proximity has had quite the effect on him.

The man is sleep warm and smells wonderful. Seb wants. This is the final straw. He’ll assign Waverly to the account first thing Monday morning. This isn't professional. But instead he lets Geoff rest against him until his legs start to go numb.

"Geoff," Seb whispers. "I need to get up."

Geoff turns his head and nuzzles - honest to god, nuzzles - against Seb's chest. "M'comfy."

Seb chuckles. "How do you feel?"

Geoff straightens and stretches. Seb lets his hands run down Geoff's back. He's so far beyond professionalism. He needs to leave.

"I feel... a lot better." Geoff twists to look at him. "Thank you, Graves. We’ll have to try that again the next time I get a proper migraine."

Just like that, Geoff is Mr. Thwaites again. Disappointment washes over him even as something in his chest unclenches.

"Happy to help, sir."

Geoff stands. "Ready for that debriefing?"

Seb clambers out of bed, surreptitiously adjusting himself. "Ready whenever you are."

Geoff smiles and gestures him towards the door. “After you.”

Seb gets Geoff caught up on the week’s business that he missed. Their momentary intimacy doesn't seem to change anything but Seb ends up staying the night in the guest room again. Sunday, they go to a film and Seb helps around the house before handing things back over to Waverly. 

When he returns Monday morning with a freshly packed overnight back, he conveniently forgets to reassign his problematic client. He blames it on the beginning of the week chaos - every Monday the maids come and the laundry service has pick up and Geoff has all his in-house meetings -, but that’s not all. He tells himself that he knows Mr. Thwaites' needs the best, that his first client deserves his loyalty and attention. But it’s Geoff’s smile when he sees Seb that morning that changes his mind.

Everything is business as usual, he supposes. ‘Business as usual’ in Sebastian’s case means being totally head-over-heels in love with his boss, but still, everything is back to normal on the surface.

\---

Until a few weeks later, when Geoff doesn't emerge from his bedroom. Seb waits until mid morning before dismissing the staff, and preemptively cancelling and rearranging what he needs to. With equal parts trepidation and excitement, he mounts the stairs and slips into Geoff's room.

"Another migraine, sir?" He's answered by a pitiful moan. "Anything I can do?"

There's unintelligible muttering and Seb walks over, kneeling next to the bed. Geoff squints at Seb.

"Hurts..." He closes eyes.

"Do you want me to try massage again?"

"Pls," Geoff mumbles, the world coming out without vowels.

"Do you think you can sit up?" Geoff just buries his face in the mattress. "Ok, Geoff... I'm- I’m going to get on the bed with you."

He pulls back the duvet and gets on the bed, kneeling next to Geoff. He repeats the same light massage that he performed last time, thumbs gentle on Geoff's neck. After long minutes, Geoff turns his head.

"Can you... temples?"

Seb pauses. He can't quite reach to properly do what Geoff's asking. He slowly swivels and swings a leg over Geoff's thighs, stance wide to make sure that he’s not touching the man. "Is this ok?"

Geoff pulls his pillow to him and disappears. Seb kneels astride Geoff, looking down at the man's back. His pajama shirt is rucked up slightly, baring a strip of skin between his pants and top. Seb's hands itch to slip his underneath. He runs his fingers through Geoff's hair over and over, paying special attention to the tender area around the temples.

Geoff's breathing deepens and evens out. Seb thinks he's fallen asleep again and runs his hands down Geoff's spine. When his thumbs graze the bare skin above the waistband of his pajamas, Geoff sucks in a breath.

"Sorry," Seb says immediately, thinking he’s woken the man or caused him discomfort.

"No, keep going," Geoff whispers, voice strained.

Breathlessly, Seb runs his palms up and down Geoff's back. He adds a little more pressure on one of the passes and Geoff moans. Seb is suddenly achingly hard. He doesn't stop though, kneading his thumbs into Geoff's shoulders. Another moan. Good god, the man’s trying to kill him. Each time Seb finds and works out a knot, Geoff sighs and hums in pleasure. Finally, Seb has to stop because he doesn’t think he can take much more of this torture.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, voice rough.

Geoff shifts underneath him, carefully turning onto his back. Now Seb is astride Geoff's hips. He hopes the dim light in the room hides how fucking aroused he is, but when Geoff looks up at him-

"Sebastian..." Geoff says low, eyes heavily lidded. He lightly rests his hands on Seb's thighs, thumbs running along the inseams of his slacks, so close to where Seb wants them. “Please…”

Seb can’t stop himself. He knows their professional relationship is ruined. If he’s honest, it has been for a long time. He slowly bends down, giving Geoff plenty of time to stop him, but the man keeps their gazes locked until just before Seb kisses him. Geoff's eyes flutter shut and God, Seb would have never guessed it of him. He kisses like a dying man, like he may never get another chance to do this.

Geoff's hands are on his back, untucking his shirt, seeking skin, and then sliding down, under his belt, pulling Seb down onto him.

"Fuck..." Seb moans into their kiss. Geoff's just as hard as he is and kissing him desperately.

"God, I've wanted you," Geoff pleads. "Wanted you so bad, but I didn’t dare hope."

Seb thrusts against him and they both groan. He takes Geoff's face in his hands and slows the kiss, making it deliberate, careful, showing Geoff just how much he's wanted this too.

When he breaks away, Geoff's lips are swollen and red, his face flushed. He looks-

"Beautiful," Seb whispers and Geoff blushes further. "How could I not want you, you ridiculous man?"

“Most people find it quite easy,” he mutters in return.

“Most people are idiots.” Seb strokes his thumbs over Geoff’s flushed cheeks.

“Sebastian… Can I confess something?” Geoff asks, looking embarrassed.

“Of course, love,” Seb answers, the endearment slipping out of its own accord.

“I didn’t have a migraine today…” He smiles, turning his head and kissing Seb’s palm. All Seb can do is laugh and kiss Geoff again.

“You know, sir. I sent the staff home…” Seb brushes their lips together. “We have the place all to ourselves…”

Geoff quirks an eyebrow and begins unbuttoning Seb’s Oxford. “Sounds promising.”

**Author's Note:**

> For my fellow inmate in Stirth hell, Chiara.


End file.
